


State of Grace (Cutler Beckett)

by ofathena



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2020-09-19 00:11:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20321845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofathena/pseuds/ofathena
Summary: Elizabeth Swann's younger sister Florence presents a new problem to Cutler Beckett and his lack of mercy for the realm, she's a distraction that he's all too happy to get carried away with.





	1. Of Rain and Ruined Weddings

The voices of the wind were surging louder and louder and Lord Cutler Beckett, encased in the warmth of his carriage, was relieved to not yet be out in the weather. He could hear the rain picking up again, lashing at the windows and he knew soon that the ground would become soft and his horses would begin to struggle. Pleasantly, they were drawing close to his destination, so it would not worry him much longer. Mercer rapped lightly on the front window and Beckett glanced out of the window, eyes roaming the sleet soaked setting before with a heaved sigh, he stood, brushing himself down briskly before he stepped from the carriage and onto the moist ground.

It was a wedding, he realised that was the event he was interrupting, though Beckett cared little for the occasion, only for the charges and for the one he had come to collect. The bride, the first of his charges, was a woman with an almost familiar face, beautiful and willful and glaring at him through glossy eyes. She pushed through the crowd easily, eyes narrowing as they took him in but he made no remark as Mercer aided him in the removal of his overcoat, the dark fabric growing heavy with the ongoing downpour. A scuffle and shout from the back of the crowd drew all eyes to a dozen of his men and Beckett’s lip lifted as he noticed that manacled man caught amongst them, at the sight of whom the bride let out a low snarl and went to plunge toward the man, only to be held back by a fairer woman though the bride looked ready to tear free at any moment.

Beckett found his eyes could barely stray from the woman gripping the bride’s hand in her own, knuckles white as she struggled to contain who Beckett now knew as Elizabeth Swann. The other woman, however, she was unknown to him and she was the most beguiling creature he had had the pleasure of settling his gaze on. A picture of elegance and innocence, she had soft features and gentle eyes, eyes that remained lowered as she stood beside Miss Swann and Beckett found himself rather more than intrigued.

“Will!” The name bursts from Miss Swann’s lips and the young woman’s eyes flash up, sadness welling within them and Beckett advances then, catching everyone’s attention but the bride’s, who don’t move from her groom’s until Beckett is amidst the crowd. There’s more commotion and Beckett’s eyebrow raised at the sight of a red-faced Weatherby Swann trying to force his way through the crowd, shouting commands that fall on deaf ears as Mercer moves to intercept. 

“Governor Swann, it has been quite a few years,” Beckett met the governor’s eyes briefly, enough for the confusion to begin to dissipate from the man’s ruddy features and the governor recognises him then, eyes narrowing much like his daughter’s had. 

“Cutler Beckett?” Ah, he has indeed been recognised but clearly, word from England was slower to reach Port Royal than he believed as Mercer utters the correction of title to the startled governor. The young woman’s eyes roamed his face when she believed him unawares, he felt her gaze like soft dapples across his face and it was as though she was truly touching him rather than simply studying him from afar.

“Lord or not, on whose and what authority are you arresting this man?” The governor exchanges a glance with his daughter, who has since moved to stand at William Turner’s side, the young woman forgotten and remaining within the crowds as though she’s ready to disappear into them.

“I think you’ll find that indeed, I do,” Beckett kept his voice relatively pleasant, although the idea that his authority was being questioned made his teeth clench briefly. Mercer handed over one of the documents, the governor’s hands shaking remarkably so as he glanced over the warrant, before his eyes flashed up, burning into Beckett’s.

“This warrant is for Elizabeth Swann,” There was an undeniable quiver in the governor’s tone and Beckett found that he was indeed enjoying this little scene. 

“Oh, is it? An annoying mistake, easily rectified. Arrest her as well,” Beckett noted the surge of movement to his left, the young woman moved through the crowd towards Miss Swann with surprising speed but with a tilt of Beckett’s head, Mercer had intercepted her and the young woman was practically trapped between several of Beckett’s men, Mercer and Beckett himself. 

“What are the charges?” Miss Swann snarled out as Mercer passed over the remaining documents to the now white-faced governor, who upon receiving the documents went to read from them.

“The charge is "conspiring to set free a man convicted of crimes against the Crown and Empire and condemned to death, for which the-" The governor went almost paler, his hands shaking tremendously and Beckett spoke up, knowing Governor Swann would not be able to finish.

“For which the punishment, regrettably, is also death. Perhaps you remember a certain pirate named Jack Sparrow,” There was a chorus of objections at Beckett’s words and he stifled an eye roll but they’d given him his answer. Now all that remained was imprisoning them, which he momentarily signalled for his guards to do before his gaze settled back on the woman still beside Mercer, who Governor Swann was speaking to quietly, his words audibly soothing. Beckett’s eyes narrowed briefly in on the young woman before with something close to a jolt of shock, he realised that she must be the governor’s other daughter.


	2. Of Borrowed Jackets and Carriages

Cutler Beckett had met Florence Swann nearly a decade ago in London with her father before they had made the crossing, although this was his first time encountering Elizabeth, Beckett remembered how charming young Florence had been and how she’d offered sweet sympathy for his losses, though she wasn’t entirely sure of what exactly he had indeed lost. Now, she would be twenty and apparently, still unmarried and more exquisite than any other woman he’d encountered. He could feel her eyes on him, peering up through dark lashes as her father appeared to coax her back. She was trembling slightly and although Beckett did not doubt it was because of the cold, there was something close to fury glittering in her expression and her father’s words of calm were barely working. 

“Weatherby. Unfortunate circumstances but I’m glad you are faring well,” The governor worked to compose himself, cheeks flushing briefly and he pursed his lips together before he seemed to remember his etiquette and dipped his head slightly.

“Yes, you seem to have had better luck since last I saw you. Your lordship and directorship must have you in a rather tricky position, here arresting my daughter,” Beckett reminded himself of his composure, smiling thinly before his eyes turned to Florence, who was shivering rather openly. Beckett, with a glance towards Mercer and a click of his tongue, shed his coat and offered it to Florence, whose cheeks flushed just enough that he noticed before she half glanced at her father, as if unsure. Weatherby looked briefly torn before he nodded minutely.

“Thank you, my lord,” Florence spoke softly, her eyes dropping briefly and Beckett allowed himself to smile with a genuine warmth at her. She returned the smile with a soft one of her own and he noticed the way the colouring on her cheeks brightened. The governor looked all set to rush her off but Beckett decidedly had not spent enough time with Florence nor with Weatherby, who he indeed needed to have words with. 

“Come, I’ll escort you back to the mansion. We have much to discuss and I will allow your daughter to be privy to it, as it will doubtless affect her,” The two exchanged passing looks but did as he asked, Mercer advancing ahead to the carriage. The rain had begun to slow and Beckett slipped back into his outer coat before holding out a hand to Florence, who took it without even a glance in her father’s direction, making Beckett smile faintly as they hurried to the safety of the carriage. 

Helping Florence into the carriage, Beckett turned to aid Weatherby a moment later to find the older man studying him but he was wordless as he allowed himself to be helped into the carriage. Mercer caught Beckett’s gaze as he stepped up to follow and with a nod, it seemed Mercer knew exactly where this conversation was going to be headed, a cruel smile still resting upon his lips as he closed the carriage door behind them.

The conversation between Beckett and her father was one that had filled Florence with anxiety. The idea that her sister and Will were to be hung, that because of the pirate she’d met briefly in the summer, they’d both be killed and James Norrington too, it sounded, made her heart twist with a mixture of worry and hopelessness. She loved the three of them dearly, Norrington she missed terribly and the idea that Cutler Beckett, who she remembered had been kind to her when she had been younger, was the one coming to execute them made her stomach hurt. 

The Beckett she remembered had been just as handsome, more so now that she was older and could appreciate it, with elegant features, perfect poise and an almost regal air to him. He was smaller in stature than most of the men she knew, but his presence stood far greater and seated in a carriage with him facing her and her father, she felt the presence innately and although Florence was not one to be cowed easily, she was well aware of the intimidation tactics being currently exhibited. Beckett, feigning an almost casual air, directed what felt like a tirade of information at her father, all the while remaining rather impassive to the information he was delivering. Florence struggled to keep up with where he appeared to be going with this speech but her father seemed to well understand, his shoulder where it was pressed against her own was rigid with tension. Beckett’s talk of pirates and the realm made sense enough to Florence but why it happened to be directed towards her father made less sense, her father had mayhaps allowed Jack Sparrow a tentative almost freedom but he certainly hadn’t abetted piracy, as it almost seemed Beckett was suggesting.

When the topic of conversation turned swiftly to her, Florence sat up a little straighter, folding her hands into her lap carefully as she raised her eyes slightly. Beckett was already watching her, his grey eyes thoughtful as he directed a question more so to Florence herself than to her father. 

“Florence I presume is not far off marriage either. I expect you would have found yourself rather flooded with suitors seeking her hand?” Her father’s knuckles whitened briefly and Florence began to realise what Beckett might be getting at. Her father had mentioned he thought Beckett to be the ideal suitor for Florence to her in passing years ago, back when he thought more highly of Beckett. 

“Yes, there are no shortage. Florence is like her sister, willful and aware of herself but after what happened a few months ago-” Her father broke off, Florence’s jaw had clenched slightly and Beckett seemed well aware of the tick there. He steepled his hands, making Florence very aware of his attention as he spoke directly to her it seemed.

“All in due time, I suppose. You may tell me about the occurrences if you wish, but I won’t press you for them, dear Florence,” She nodded at his words, her stomach awash with acid and for a while, Florence remained within her own mind, her thoughts spinning a hurricane as she recalled the events her father had almost broached. She was startled from those thoughts by a warm hand finding her own, her father was talking distantly but Beckett’s eyes were kind and something like concern was filling his expression. Florence was embarrassed, she hadn’t entirely been aware she’d not been present and flushed accordingly, her cheeks burning but Beckett’s gaze did not waver from the slightly worried look he was fixing her with. She shook her head faintly in response to the unasked question and although Beckett seemed less than satisfied, he did not bring any more attention to Florence.


	3. Of Candles and Quiet Words

Before Florence bathed that night, her father asked her to come to his study to speak with him and although apprehensive at first, she reasoned her father would never make a decision without first broaching it with her. She did not doubt that the reason for this was Cutler Beckett and his less than honied words but Florence was undaunted. She didn’t fear Beckett, though she found herself rather apprehensive. Beckett, although she found him intriguing, worried her, in more ways than one. The risk he posed to her sister, her lover and their friend, well pirate but friends nonetheless made her overly cautious.

Her father’s office was dimly lit, the candles burning low and he had his wig off, curling hair balding at the top of his skull and when he raised his eyes to her, his smile was tired. The servant milling around, Rogers who smiled briefly at Florence when she entered, took his leave rather swiftly, shutting the door tightly behind him as he vanished into the hallway. Florence sat then, the familiar armchair sinking beneath her weight. Her father placed his pen down then, his eyes meeting herself a moment later and he smiled again, the smile made Weatherby Swann’s face cracked into a million fine lines, all of which were familiar to Florence. 

“My dear, I’m sorry to summon you at such late an hour. My mind is ill at ease and I cannot stop thinking of Elizabeth and Will and James and of course, Cutler Beckett. When I first met him, I’ll tell you I didn’t realise at the time what a threat he might become. You don’t remember it probably, but he’d come under some misfortune before you met him, none that you were aware of but you were sweet and sympathetic and he seemed to appreciate that. I didn’t want to see it then but now, I cannot help but realise how easily you fell into his favour,” Florence wasn’t quite sure where this was going but she remained silent as her father spoke, her mind back in England briefly. She remembered very little of the conversation, only that he’d smiled at her indulgently and she’d grown quite warm but nothing else stood out as something her father might find issue with. There had been the interaction in the carriage, which she was not entirely sure he’d caught but she was unsure if this conversation was going to be about that.

“The way he looked at you today, even when you were unaware and then in the carriage, when he thought I wasn’t watching. You leave tonight, I’ll allow you to bath and to prepare but you need to leave. Beckett has fastened his attention onto you and though, in other circumstances, I would be more than pleased, currently you are not safe and neither is your sister. I cannot have Beckett posing a threat to both of you at once, I can’t lose you like I nearly did,” Florence flinched at his words, just slightly enough that her father noticed and his face crumbled, sadness leaking into his eyes.

“I understand, father. Beckett’s ill intentions didn’t seem to have me in the equation but I trust your judgement. I’ll get my maid to prepare my suitcase, can I ask where you’re sending me?” Weatherby nodded, relief dousing his features as he reached to clasp Florence’s cool fingers. 

“Good, I’m glad you understand my dear. I’m sorry it has to be so sudden, but you can return as soon as things calm down here, as soon as Elizabeth is free. I’m sending you back to England, your aunt lives alone after that your uncle pass and she will take care of you. I just want you safe Florence, after what happened, although I do not doubt that Beckett has your best interests at heart, he poses too much of a threat. At any other time, I would have been thrilled but my dear one, I cannot lose you,” Florence’s face twisted but she did not protest as her father embraced her tightly before he realised her, brushing pale locks off of her forehead. 

“Off you go now, your carriage is due to depart at half eleven. I’ll see you off,” He ruffled her hair before she hurried from the room. Closing the door behind her, Florence let out a heavy, shaking breath before she turned, slipping back down the hallway she had come from and retreating back to her quarters.


	4. Of Bruised Cheeks and Proposals

Cutler Beckett couldn’t say he was surprised to hear Weatherby Swann had plans to smuggle Florence from Port Royal back to England. Clearly his request to court Florence was unwelcome to Weatherby but from what Mercer had gathered, he hadn’t informed Florence of Beckett’s intentions so Beckett had no real gauge on how the youngest Swann would have had reacted to his proposal of sorts. He was almost eager to witness her reaction firsthand, he had already figured that her facial expressions were more than telling and despite her being considerably less bold than her sister, one look in her eyes and one knew exactly what was on her mind.

And then there was the oddness of what Weatherby had mentioned happening to her a few months prior, the way she’d become rigid and pale had not gone unnoticed by Beckett, the slight tremor in her fingers when his hand had found hers and the way her cheeks had darkened almost instantly upon contact. Beckett wanted to know what exactly had become of Florence that she might react like that, although he could well guess what may have happened given the timeframe. A few months ago, pirates hailing from the Black Pearl had descended on Port Royal, taking one of the governor's daughters, who’d ended up assisting yet another pirate and his newly minted accomplice in Will Turner. Not much had reached Beckett regarding the daughter he was interested in and clearly, something had slipped very much under his radar in terms of what had happened to Florence that night.

Beckett was feeling rather patient this particular evening and decided he would indeed wait up for Mercer to bring him either Florence or Governor Swann, whoever managed to end up in that carriage and caught unawares by Mercer’s ambush at the docks. He was sitting fireside, the cool winds had blown off the rain and most of the unnatural warmth that the Caribbean was so well known for and he had a scribe writing again, a contract for Governor Swann and a certificate of marriage for when he wed Florence. His overconfidence surrounding Florence centred on the way she’d looked at him, not with thinly veiled disgust or fear entirely, but with almost curiosity and that curiosity, he wondered if it might make way for desire.

Beckett was rather unsure of the sudden affections he found himself harbouring for the younger Swann, but a brief trip down memory lane reminded him that they were almost nothing new. Even in her youth, he’d thought Florence to be both wise beyond her years and more beautiful than many a lady, he recalled her kindness back in England when she was young and naive. Memories of his distress over Jack Sparrow and the possibility of him losing a lordship surged, almost unwarranted but Beckett allowed himself to bathe in that furious hatred for a moment. The idea that he would see Jack again made him burn, the dastardly pirate had taken so much from him and now that Beckett had so much power, he could barely contain himself when it came to exacting revenge on Sparrow. 

Mercer had devised that Florence would be a tool in that grand scheme, whether she was aware of it or not she skewed Elizabeth’s alliance enough and Beckett knew Elizabeth would have a hard time escaping Port Royal with her sister in his clutches, even if Florence wasn’t as opposed to it. Florence was insurance, that no matter what happened and if it came to a battle upon the water, with Florence in his cabin, Elizabeth would not allow her sister to perish and would possibly ensure the safety of his ship enough so that her sister would not be harmed. Florence was both a bargaining chip and insurance together, whether she was aware of it or not and Beckett knew that he’d need to keep his more secret plans quiet from her in case she made any grand decisions surrounding what exactly he was keeping her around for. 

Beckett, twirling his seal briefly before crushing it into the wax, wanted Florence for more than just leverage but he wasn’t quite ready to admit that to Mercer. He wasn’t quite lonely, but there was an emptiness that needed filling and from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d known exactly whom he required to fill that hole. His bed also had become rather large at night now, even just being on land it felt overly large and he wouldn’t mind some company of the Florence fashion, he’d never stoop so low as to find himself entangled with anyone lesser.

The maid he’d sent to prepare her quarters for the time being in Port Royal scurried back to inform him everything was ready and Beckett eyed the timid girl briefly before he crooked a finger at her.

“I want you to get Lady Swann to trust you and then when she does, you tell me and I’ll communicate with you what you need to find out from her,” The maid nodded quickly, almost rabbitlike and Beckett contained an eye-roll. 

The sound of a carriage caught both of their attention, Beckett straightening and eyes narrowing just slightly whilst the maid took immediate leave as Beckett stood, pacing to the staircase and descending quickly to go to the front door. Mercer awaited him on the other side and in his clutches, a tired-looking Florence with a red mark scoring her cheek and tears glittering in her eyes despite none of them having been shed yet. 

“Ah, Mercer. I’m glad you were successful, I trust you are not to blame for the mark accosting dear Florence’s fair features?” Mercer shook his head and went to speak but Beckett’s eyes were on the minute nod from Florence and his jaw ticked. He’d asked Mercer specifically to keep his hands off of her and now it seemed he’d directly disobeyed Beckett’s wishes.

“Lovely girl, I’m sure your father mentioned my marriage proposal and when I heard the news that you were to be sent back to England, I was quite puzzled as your father expressed great delight at my proposal,” Florence’s eyes glittered briefly in understand, her jaw briefly clenching and unclenching as she processed his words but otherwise her features remained quiet and nothing jumped from her expression to clue Beckett in to her thoughts.

“I can only assume he hadn’t told you,” Beckett kept his voice soft, nodding at Mercer, who she was possibly uncomfortable with, to leave. He had to remind himself that women were soft and to be sweet with them would get one a long way. He held out an arm to her, helping her slip from the coat strewn across her shoulders before coaxing her chin up with tender fingers under her jaw, he inspected the mark scored across her delicate cheekbone, before pressing a soft kiss just below the mark, noting the way she nearly trembled within his arms. Oh, this was going to be easy.


	5. Of Soft Sheets and Silk Dresses

The quarters Beckett left her in were minimally furnished, but the room was flushed with heat and Florence found she was terribly tired, the queen bed practically goading her to curl up in and she was rather glad that she had foregone the usual corset and petticoats in favour of a travelling gown but that would still require some aid in getting out of it all but all of a sudden, she felt rather overwhelmed, her reluctance entrenched in the shyness that often engulfed her and in the dislike that she would be making some poor maid’s life more difficult. Sinking down to sit upon the quilt covered bed, she found it terribly soft and her eyes were already beginning to flutter closed as she sank into the soft down. 

“My Lady! You can’t sleep with your dress on! Here, let me help you,” Florence’s eyes snapped back open to find a skinny maid hurrying to her side, beady blue eyes fastened on her with something like pity hiding within them and Florence wanted to shrink from the other girl’s all too knowing gaze. 

“I’m Hedi, miss and Lord Beckett has sent me to help you get ready for bed,” Florence nodded again, her movements growing faintly sluggish as the maid hurried to unlace her, nimble fingers making quick work and soon, Florence could ease into more evening appropriate clothes, the thin nightgown was one from her own bags and she was relieved to feel the familiar material against her skin as Hedi helped her into the soft bed. The sheets were fine, finer even than the ones in Florence’s father’s house and as she slipped under the blankets, Florence shivered slightly at how nice it all felt. Hedi, having noted the way the smaller girl shuddered, hurried to the fire, coaxing at it brusquely. She felt rather maternal towards the golden-haired young lady already, whether it was the obvious uncertainty lingering around the girl or if it was simply how much she looked like she needed a friend, Hedi disliked to have to spy for her Lord but she knew it was for the girl’s own good. Lady Florence was skinny, her new lady’s wrists were thin and although of course, she ate well, Hedi sensed that the younger girl might struggle with keeping or even gaining weight, which was common with ladies who suffered under the heat. When she had near burst into the room after knocking enough times without answer that she had become quite concerned, seeing the small figure practically swaying with tiredness on the bed had sent a wave of panic through Hedi. 

Her report to Lord Beckett would be brief, tiding him over with tales of the girl’s tiredness and the possible grieving she was doing as well as that she was rather underweight and probably, as her sister was, prone to fainting in the heat. Hedi glanced back towards the slumbering girl before she took the lantern, her figure small against the expanse of pale sheets. Hedi hoped that Lord Beckett would reserve his cruelness only for his work and not to Lady Florence, but she felt that might be wishful thinking. Tucking the lantern briefly into a nook beside the door so it gave the appearance of an almost nightlight, Hedi closed the door quietly behind her before picking the lantern back up and scuttling back down to Lord Beckett’s office.

He was seated at his desk, leaning back against his chair with a faraway look on his face and when Hedi knocked, it took him a moment to collect himself before his gaze snapped to her, blue eyes slightly less piercing on account that it was past twelve in the morning. 

“My Lord, your Lady seems to be very drained, emotionally and physically. She’s very thin, my Lord and she’ll need to be eating well and regularly, especially once the two of you wed as at her current weight and in her state, conceiving your heir might not be possible until she gains some weight,” Beckett nodded thoughtfully, his fingers raking briefly through his wig before he nodded again at Hedi to dismiss her and the girl took her leave before he could make any cutting remarks about how forthright she’d been, her boldness was something he’d have to become accustomed to with the new lady’s state being as it was and as Hedi retired for the night, her thoughts went not to Beckett but to the sleeping Florence, alone and probably afraid. Swallowing her thoughts, knowing there was little she could do to help the girl without overstepping, Hedi slipped into bed quietly so as not to wake her sleeping neighbour.

Florence woke late in the morning, the sun already high and warm on her face. She winced at how bright the rays that had snuck through the curtains of the room were before sliding from the bed to sit on the edge of it. It was in this movement that she realised she wasn’t alone in the room. Her eyes met Beckett’s, his unwavering as she nearly dropped her own gaze but retained eye contact with a stubbornness that would do her elder sister proud.

“I’m glad you’re awake, we were beginning to worry,” His voice was soft, as though he was speaking to a child or a small animal and Florence tried not to feel slighted, rather pushing her face into a softer expression than she’d previously awarded him with and noting the maid who’d also slipped into the room, she directed a sweet smile in the direction of what appeared to be an older woman. Beckett’s posture opened a little more upon seeing this smile and Florence turned a faint rendition of it on the man, who’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly but Florence, and the maid, both noticed it.

“I was wondering if you’d like to join me for breakfast, I know it's terribly improper for me to be here with you and asking you myself but I thought you could use an improper touch, just to make sure you understood I want us to be comfortable with one another,” A part of Florence was touched, another part of her went immediately to deciphering his motive as she stood from the bed to wander behind the partition, the maid proffering a dress that looked expensive and remarkably light, corsetless and with a deep neck that Florence quite fancied, it was an off white and when Florence touched it, she marvelled at the feel of what felt like silk under her fingertips. It wasn’t one of hers, she knew that much and her eyes found Beckett’s swiftly, her gaze curious.

“Lord Beckett, are you trying to buy my favour or are you ashamed of how I dress?” Beckett’s cheeks pinked just slightly and Florence clicked her tongue against her teeth. She had put him in a delicate position and his reaction now would give light to how he would react in similar situations and now, all she could do was wait.


	6. Of Marigolds and Herb Bundles

Breakfast was a quiet affair, as it was late morning and most of the others that inhabited and worked within the house had already gotten the early morning work done and were now off in the gardens and into town. Florence had eventually dressed in the one he’d set out for her and once he got to see her spin in it, giggling quietly with the maid and Beckett found himself rather satisfied, both with the purchase and with the look on her face, that bright, happy warmth. She was rather childlike in her joy, which he found rather adorable and now, as she sat across from him nibbling at fruit like a monkey, delicate and tender with the way she almost investigated it before she consumed it. 

He found it a rather curious way of eating but it seemed she was rather curious all round and he was beginning to see why her father had been so protective of her. He was already feeling rather possessive of the gorgeous creature who was currently enthralled by the honey dipper, spinning it and twisting the honey every which way with a curious gaze.

The way the sun danced upon her curls, it was as if she had stepped right out of a beautiful painting and when she aimed a smile at the maid who placed a napkin on her left, it almost felt as though she had. She was perfect, for him, for this life and for all the plans he’d made for his future. He studied her a moment longer, taking advantage of her state of distraction. She had perfect bone structure and the way her eyes gleamed their silvery green secrets made him almost flustered, albeit that he’d never reveal that she had such an effect on him. 

Sitting back in his chair, he adjusted his gaze so as he could peer out one of the large main windows, the view of the port was rather gorgeous at this hour, despite all the common folk milling around. The sun was up and rising fast, the day was not yet too hot and the breeze coming in from the water was cool. Today was going to be a big day. He had many a duty to attend to and despite Mercer’s urging, he was disinclined to leave his lady alone. He did not quite trust her with Mercer nor did he trust that Elizabeth Swann would leave Port Royale without her little sister, had she yet discovered his ploy? He doubted that Weatherby had kept her sister’s apparent plight a secret from her and he could already detect that Elizabeth would not be pleased. 

“You and I have a few duties to attend to today, dear one. I’m afraid I would prefer you to accompany me than to leave you unattended here. Our carriage departs within the hour, I suggest you gather your necessities for the day and do not dally,” It was as if he was addressing a child and she seemed to note as much, a brow rising briefly before her face smoothed over and she was almost a blank slate.

Her eyes were always just a little too expressive however and Beckett could see the confusion surging like a forest fire within her glittering gaze. But there was no resistance, she merely tipped her mouth and finished her plate before she stood, dipping a curtsey in his direction before she and her maid vanished.

Port Royal was almost lazy in comparison to what Beckett was usually accustomed to in England, the hustle and bustle of London’s high streets and parliaments were a far cry from the laid back nature to the port side town. His lady seemed at ease, especially so amongst the commoners, which Beckett tried not to let irk him. She was admittedly rather warm to the common folk, which was unusual for a lady of high status where he came from, but admittedly, London was a league of its own. And Florence was indeed a very interesting individual. He found himself feeling rather standoffish as she mingled easily in the marketplace, occasionally calling sellers by name and buying with coins she slipped from a purse he hadn’t noticed at her waist. She wiggled fingers at little children clinging to their parents, smiling easily at the ones who awarded her with a beam and held out a hand to a little one who waddled up, small hands reaching to be lifted.

Florence only half glanced at Beckett for permission before she was lifting the little one into her arms, tucking the boy over her hip as she spoke to him in words too quiet for Beckett to catch. Beckett’s guard gave his master a sidelong glance as if to see if he would intervene but Beckett was quietly spellbound by the sight of his lady with the child and only returned from his thoughts when she turned her smile on him, finally noticing his stare.

Placing the child in the arms of another, bigger child, Florence waved them on with a cheeky grin working its way onto her mouth and the children of Port Royal scattered. Beckett strode to rejoin his lady, tucking her arm over his as gently as he could manage, despite the wave of possessiveness that caught him in its roil. She smiled up at him with a warmth that made her eyes gleam before all but tugging him through the thick of the market, her destination unknown to him and he suspected to her as well, she just liked yanking him around. People parted to allow them through, surprise donning several faces before impassive expressions rolled over the faces of the townspeople at the sight of Beckett and his decorated lapels. His guards also aiding in the drawing back of the crowd, and Beckett was very aware of their presence despite his orders for them to allow him and his lady space. 

Florence had finally reached her destination, a young woman with a stall full of flowers, herbs and interestingly mottled soaps. There was a sense of familiarity between the two of them as the shopkeeper clasped Florence’s hands in her own for a moment and Cutler caught what he thought could only have been a silent exchange between the two of them. The shopkeeper nodded and began fussing in a drawer of her stall as Florence picked out several bars of soap, as well as several bundles of herbs and a bunch of marigolds. The shopkeeper gave all the herbs a quick sniff before she placed them in a paper bag, which Beckett was quick to notice already had a bundle of herbs in the bottom. Florence passed over several coins, making the shopkeeper protest unhappily, forcing at least two coins back into Florence’s palm. His lady laughed, a clear, sweet sound before she dropped the coins in the jar of water left empty by the herbs she’d taken. The shopkeeper fussed unhappily but smiled brightly at Florence, her grateful expression full of warmth and respect.

“What else did she slip in that bag for you?” Beckett asked, as nonchalantly as he could once they were out of eavesdropping range of the market. Florence threw him a surprised look and he couldn’t quite decipher if it was surprise that he’d noticed the herbs or that he cared enough to ask. 

“It’s liquorice root, traditional Chinese herbs,” Florence said, her cheeks flushing brightly although Beckett had no idea why that was a source of embarrassment. He wasn’t quite sure the connotation, which had Florence’s shoulders relaxing momentarily. He made a note to himself to ask his physician the minute he got a chance about the properties of liquorice root. 

The sound of a firing squad pricked his ears and Beckett couldn’t help the surge of adrenaline that strode through him like a lightning bolt. Grasping Florence’s hand, he became the one tugging as he steered her towards where his men had begun to prepare for their timely arrival. Florence barely had time to protest before she was whisked into the crush of soldiers saluting Beckett’s arrival.


	7. Of Pirates and Bad Memories

Beckett strode into the courtyard following the ceremony, Florence practically crushed to his side as they moved through the crowd. His guards were silent beside him but he knew that they were probably just as shocked as he was, although he was probably more terrified than them. Their carriage came into view and the tensions began to ebb from Beckett’s shoulders, the relief that they would be safe and there was no chance at what had just happened, occurring again. Once they were in the carriage, then he could think over what had just taken place but until then, his priority was getting Florence back to his manor as quickly as possible.

Her fingers were still trembling when he helped her into the carriage and Beckett felt his stomach twist painfully, his more possessive side rearing its head like a furious bull and he pushed the surge of fury at the world down, knowing Florence needed him more than he needed to enact revenge right now. 

The carriage was still for only a moment before Beckett took her into his arms, knowing it was highly inappropriate but Florence looked ready to shatter and Beckett then allowed himself to relive the scene.

He had been atop the podium, speaking to his men when there had been movement out of the corner of his eye. Beckett had almost paid it no mind, he thanked the stars that he had turned with half a mind to threaten whoever was drawing attention away from him currently when his heart had practically stilled in his chest. Florence was struggling, gagged with her hands bound as several, what must have been disguised pirates, dragged her backwards. She flailed wildly, her eyes wide and wet with fearful tears as they found Beckett’s and he felt his control near snap. 

His guards were faster than he was, moving through the crowd of soldiers and commoners and Beckett moved, hurrying from the podium just in time to see Florence slam an elbow into the eye socket of the man holding her. The pirate jerked, yelling out and she ducked the fist that came her way, pushing back forcefully on the half blind pirate behind her and Beckett felt a rush of pride. That was quickly flushed however, by the wave of panic that reared again. 

His men were fastest, the pirates dispersing quickly and Florence was unbound, her tears not quite halting as Beckett snarled for them to catch the filthy pirates before he took Florence into his arms, shielding her from everything that he could possibly block out.

Florence was still shaking in his arms when they reached the manor, but her tears had slowed and she allowed herself to be guided inside. She looked tiny and tearful in the armchair Beckett near deposited her in, instructing Hedi to fetch some tea and something for his lady to eat. He fetched a throw from an armchair, draping it around her shoulders tentatively and noting how she clung to the fabric, her fingers bunching nervously. Beckett was acutely aware that his own heartbeat had yet to slow from a quick patter in his chest.

He took the other teacup Hedi proffered, not quite waiting for it to cool down as he pressed his mouth to the lip of the cup, scalding his tongue. Beckett did not react, sitting down slowly in the chair beside Florence. She was still pale, but her breathing had begun to even out and her hands were steady around the teacup. Beckett wanted desperately to reach out to her, to reassure his lady but he felt that it was probably not the best time to offer such intimacy.

“Florence, dearest, do you want Hedi to get your bath ready?” He figured this might be the best option for his fragile girl and he was rewarded with a tired-looking nod. Hedi bustled off as the rest of the servants seemed to melt back away and then and only then did Florence seem to crumble. He wrapped her in his arms, ignoring how inappropriate this might be to an outsider as his soon-to-be-wife shook with tears in his arms.

“I don’t know if you heard of it, but the first attack on Port Royale, when Elizabeth disappeared, some of the pirates found me. I had a letter opener on me and I managed to do away with them but for a few minutes, I was so terrified and vulnerable and today I felt the same, as though I am as useless and fragile as a butterfly,” There was enough scorn injected into her voice that Beckett knew Florence to be still raw about the events but he kept himself from commenting, knowing it was unnecessary. 

“We leave for the high seas in a week, dearest, I promise you that you shan’t have to deal with that kind of filthy pirate again. I’m appointing Norrington as your personal guard, once he decides to rejoin the winning side but for now, my men will do as you ask them,” He took her hands in his, Florence’s watery eyes finding his and she nodded, wetting her lips but she seemed to resign herself from commenting.

“Go enjoy your bath, I will see you for dinner unless you would prefer to eat separately?” He cocked his head but she shook her head.

“No, I look forward to joining you,” Beckett bent to kiss the back of her hand and she rewarded him with a dark flush across her cheeks. He grinned before she stood at Hedi’s call, and slipped away up the stairs.


End file.
